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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25204429">homebrewed heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaermorons/pseuds/kaermorons'>kaermorons</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Witcher Bingo Card~ [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Dungeons &amp; Dragons, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Gen, Getting Together, Kinda, M/M, Multimedia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:22:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,810</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25204429</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaermorons/pseuds/kaermorons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“SO HAS IT HAPPENED YET?”<br/>“Has what happened, Ciri?” Jaskier asks, leaning on her ear for stability.<br/>“No, not yet. They’re both being stupid,” Triss sighs.<br/>“OH, YOU KNOW TOO?!”<br/>“What does Triss know?” Geralt frowns at his daughter, who’d grown up more than he expected when he wasn’t looking.<br/>The White Wolf and his bard receive no answers, because they fail the perception check.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eskel/Triss Merigold, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Witcher Bingo Card~ [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828993</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>129</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge #004</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>homebrewed heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This checks off my Witcher Bingo Card for "Modern AU"!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The castle looms in the distance, built upon the tallest part of a treacherous steppe at the end of a valley filled with unknown, and probably extremely dangerous monsters. A lone, hardened group standing at the trailhead looks at one another, somewhat at a loss for how to proceed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t just portal to the end?” Jaskier, the great Master Bard, asks. The sorceresses, Triss and Yennefer shake their heads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a magic forest. Who knows where we’d end up once we walked through,” Yennefer, the more powerful sorceress, sighs. “We can use spells and signs, but I don’t trust this place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t,” Lambert says, shouldering his pack and facing the trailhead, which goes down about a stone’s throw before turning into the dark forest before them. “Should be fun, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Witcher walks ahead, leaving everyone else scrambling after him, eager to not be the last one left at the trailhead. They keep a relatively spread-out approach, with the other Witchers Eskel and Geralt taking up the rear of the procession.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier is silenced each time he starts singing, much to his displeasure. He strums his lute idly, knowing he’d be fidgeting otherwise. The group comes upon a fork in the road.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, which one will take us to the castle?” Triss asks. She knows Geralt is the best tracker of the seven of them. The White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia, approaches the road, and pauses, taking in the scene.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He notices the earth to the left side is not as hard-packed as the trail to the right. Less troop movement that way. “This way.” Geralt takes the group right, followed by the rest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they make camp for the night, Jaskier pulls his lute out once more, a fine gift from the Elf King, Filavandrel. He plays a soft song after dinner, the three Witchers watching out for the others as they rest. He looks to his best friend, Geralt, and takes a moment to appreciate their unshakeable bond. They all have bonds like that, brother to brother, old flames, friends, but none as storied and famed as the one between himself and Geralt. The morning comes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first trouble they come across starts with a rustling up in the trees before them. Geralt, still at the front, draws his sword, the six behind him preparing for battle as well. A pack of wargs bursts forth from the treeline, snarling, eyes filled with rage and hunger. They’re no match for Witcher silver, however.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eskel and Geralt step up, easily slashing their way through monster flesh and bone. They didn’t even need to use a bomb or potion. “Don’t congratulate yourselves too much, gentlemen. The trail is most likely going to get worse the closer we get to the castle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fine, I’m a Witcher,” Geralt grunts, sheathing his sword and walking on ahead. The others roll their eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few hours into their trek through the forest, they find a village, a trio of houses that look like they were abandoned a very long time ago. The entire place reeks of badly-met fates and old blood. However, Geralt of Rivia, the extraordinary White Wolf, can also smell the smoke from a hastily put-out campfire just past the edge of the town.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to see what’s in the houses,” Jaskier says, pulling the group away from that barely-smelled campfire which seemed so important at the time. They break into pairs, Geralt with Jaskier, Eskel with Triss, and Yennefer with Lambert, and investigate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the first house, Eskel and Triss feel the presence of magic on the grounds, sunken into the earth. Eskel’s medallion nearly jumps off his chest at the presence. They find a journal, with a strange seal of a common hedge witch. “Amateur,” scoffs Triss, before flipping her hair. They head back to the road.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the second house, Lambert sees a really cool knife embedded into one of the support beams of the roof. Yennefer is more interested in the death warrant stabbed to the beam, sealed with gold at the bottom. It’s in a language neither of them know</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the third house, Jaskier finds that Geralt looks really good in afternoon light streaming in through the broken windows. This helps nobody but Jaskier, and even that’s arguable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regrouped, the team explains their findings, save for the White Wolf and his Master Bard, of course. Jaskier looks over the death warrant, and translates it into the common tongue, revealing that the king himself wanted the small village dead. “Every last one,” Jaskier whispers, setting the parchment down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The group shifts uneasily. “This is kinda fucked up,” Lambert says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would a king want to kill his own people? What’d they do?” Eskel asks, frowning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My sweet summer child,” Yennefer says condescendingly, rolling her amethyst eyes to the sky. “Have you actually lived on the Continent, or under a rock? Every king in history has slaughtered his own people.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The legend of this land says that this king is the one that united his people, and kept peace for his whole rule,” Jaskier argues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should know the lack of truth in man’s legends well enough,” Yennefer snaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s not fight, you guys.” Triss steps between the pair, keeping them separated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s just mad because I can inspire better than he can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not true, any of it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could you two please keep your rage boners in your pants?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know my Bardic Inspiration is better than Yennefer’s, everyone here knows it except you, O Grand Sorceress of the Purple Eyes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>amethyst,</span>
  </em>
  <span> asshole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, we already knew you have rocks in your head, but thank you for finally admitting it. Also. Rage boner? She’s my sister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jaskier. Let’s...let’s take five.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The group elects to read the hedge witch’s journal, and finds out about the king’s supposed power over the land. The toxic hand by which he ruled had infected the earth, the plants that grew there, the animals that lived there. No wonder they had stumbled on those raging wargs. The witch apparently believed that the king possessed a set of weaponry which allowed him to control the minds of others. Jaskier reluctantly translated his way through the journal over several days’ trek through the valley. Eskel and Triss spent the days meditating together, which—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which is bullshit, you two are married, you probably planned this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re subclass cleric and adepts, we need to meditate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two have mini-campaigns every fuckin day of your lives, just minus, you know. Dice. Rules. Your friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, does a moment’s silence upset you that much, Jaskier? They’re not mini-campaigns, it’s healthy communication in a marriage, thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Taking five. Again. Jaskier, go do pull-ups or something. You’re acting like Djikstra.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The crotchety chihuahua? Vesemir I’m hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pull-ups. Now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you antagonize him so much?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because he’s my brother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even you don’t believe that reason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. I have….a plan. Of sorts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking...bullshit...pull-ups...gotta...stay...sexy…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna dislocate your shoulder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nobody. Asked. You. Geralt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looking a little winded, there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just like watching me work out, admit it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s kind of like watching a car crash, but with reps.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not gonna work. Look at them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s absolutely gonna work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The party continues through the forest. The trail is littered with monsters and magic, cursed creatures as well as horrifying humanoid things that snarl and lash out at them. It’s a harrowing experience. It’s fucking awesome.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should call it here tonight, folks. I don’t want to get too far while Ciri’s at camp.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You might be right. Thanks for writing us some more twisty dark shit, dad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Geralt. Should send the kiddo to camp more often.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Drive safe, Yen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You too, asshole. Love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you. Even if you have rocks for eyes and brains.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You gotta let someone else be the bard sometimes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve stolen my room, my computer, pretty much everyone I’ve ever had a crush on, I get a little tetchy when you touch my shit, you know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. You pick one thing and I’ll stay away. Except for multiclassing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hah, well. Little late for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...night, Yen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to tell—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could you p—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. Could you pick up Ciri from the bus station tomorrow? Yen and I are both on shift.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Sure. Yeah, that works. I. Just let me know when to go grab her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Jas. What were you gonna say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing. It’s not important.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>J is crying in his room. I don’t know what I did.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Have you considered you might be the reason but you could be the solution too?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know what you mean</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Use your words with him. He called you his best friend like eight times tonight and you hardly acknowledged him at all.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Am I always this much of a jerk?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, let’s go for a walk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s forty degrees outside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...fine. If I die I’m haunting you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll still have to pay rent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh god what</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ciri lost her thief figurine at camp</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She took it with her?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And left it there</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll ask Esk if there’s extra or something</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’s very upset, she’s afraid Eskel will be mad at her</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He won’t be mad at her</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’s 12 and doesn’t know that like you do</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re right. Can we talk about last night?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m driving with Do Not Disturb While Driving turned on. I’ll see your message when I get where I’m going. (I’m not receiving notifications. If this is urgent, reply “urgent” to send a notification through with your original message.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright folks. Ciri, welcome back. Heard you lost your mini at camp, so until there’s a replacement we’re using this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where were you keeping a Barbie doll, dad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lam doesn’t want me to tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>DOLLS?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>DOLLS!!!!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A great noise of something huge moving through the trees rouses the party from sleep, and immediately everyone readies for battle. The noise grows closer and closer. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thump. Thump. Crash.</span>
  </em>
  <span> A massive pair of feet come into view, connected to legs and the rest of a body, familiar but towering fifty feet in the air above their heads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that—?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ciri!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“HELLO GUYS! A FUNNY THING HAPPENED AT THIEF CAMP.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see that!” says Jaskier. “This could be very useful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grandpa can I multiclass shapeshifting?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After you’re married.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The party rides on the shoulders of their giant, making travel that much easier through the forest. Ciri punts several beasts several miles away when she comes across them. Elsewhere, an all-powerful god is regretting his decision. Yennefer pays homage to the god in the form of a fresh ale. The god smiles on her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“SO HAS IT HAPPENED YET?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Has what happened, Ciri?” Jaskier asks, leaning on her ear for stability.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not yet. They’re both being stupid,” Triss sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“OH, YOU KNOW TOO?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does Triss know?” Geralt frowns at his daughter, who’d grown up more than he expected when he wasn’t looking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The White Wolf and his bard receive no answers, because they fail the perception check.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They come to the castle much faster than expected, and the same god from earlier weeps into his ale.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The castle is a large, multilevel monstrosity, and—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>OUR FINAL DUNGEON IS A BARBIE DREAM HOUSE?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>DOLLS!!!!!!!!!!!!!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The god reminds the party to get off their phones while adventuring. Lambert, who is most familiar with the Barbie Dream Dungeon, leads the way. It’s actually quite serendipitous that a member of their party is actually suited for the size of the castle, and they bypass a whole lot of traps and rooms that would have been so fucking fun to actually play through instead of just stepping on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, a loud growl echoes through a dark room. Triss scatters the light of the stars above them, and illuminated a massive, hunched alghoul, gnawing on a skull. Geralt of Rivia, the mighty Witcher, raises his hand in the Sign of Igni, and—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Three, and you took Sign Damage last turn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt of Rivia, the humble and chastised Witcher, lowers his hand and draws his silver sword, but he’s not happy about it. One by one the adventurers (except for their giant, who is taking a nap) attack the beast. The Master Bard, Jaskier Bardskier, strums a chord and begins to sing, stirring inspiration and confidence in other members of the party. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“When a humble ba—”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span> not that song again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my role, it’s my Bardic Inspiration, I can sing whatever I want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jaskier please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. Only because Geralt said please, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier the Bard glares at the sorceress Yennefer, and sings. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“With a taste of your lips, I’m on a riiiide…”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The bard’s song inspires the party enough to bring down the terrible beast just before their giant wakes from her nap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They come to what must be the royal throne room, at the ruins at the top of the castle. Before them, they see the hilt of a sword sticking out of a massive boulder, somehow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can pull it out, I’m a Witcher,” Geralt says. He does not pull it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’M A GIANT.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are a giant, Ciri.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The giant does not pull the sword out. One by one, each member of the party tries to pull the sword from the stone. Surely, with the power of the sword, they can reunite the Continent and bring honor and respect back to Witchers across the land. One bard stands to the side, not yet having tried to pull the sword out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do we need to have a monarch anyway? Yennefer was right, every king in history has been unjust and cruel and ended up hurting their own people. We should find a way to destroy the power in the sword, untie the steel from the land.” Jaskier takes a shuddering breath, overcome by the truth of his words. “Oh. Holy shit hold on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I roll for royal burial knowledge?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think that’s wisdom. Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Awesome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, two, thirteen, fifteen, plus four is nineteen and your lute gives a plus-two to wisdom checks regarding dead rulers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It does </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Filavandrel’s lute, and you never did a stat check?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did, I rolled a two, and was told, ‘it looks pretty sexy, for a lute.’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway. Burial rites for kings in this land includes their ceremonial sword in the ground, with their crown hanging over the handle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does anyone see a crown?!” The party frantically scouts the castle, but cannot find a crown out of place. The bard clears his throat again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guys, I um. Remember how I’m nobility?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, Jaskier is </span>
  <em>
    <span>nobility?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I have a charisma bonus for quests in Redania. I uh, as long as I have my crown.” He reaches into his Bag of Holding and pulls out a simple-looking gold coronet. “I never wanted to use it because I just wanted to go on adventures with you all, I didn’t want you to think of me as different. You’re all my best friends and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re my best friend,” Geralt says, stunning literally everyone including the god. “You. I, uh.” The Witcher is at a loss for words, but the floor is his. “You’ve always been my best friend, even when I don’t deserve it. I’m sorry I never treated you how you deserve and I shouldn’t have let my feelings for you hide behind false anger or indifference.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re doing this </span>
  <em>
    <span>now?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Yennefer hisses. The god shushes her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jaskier, I don’t want to hide how I feel for you anymore. It’s...Witchers say they don’t have hearts, but I think mine has just...been yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Triss and Eskel clutch hands with one another, tense at how Jaskier will respond. They have faith in him. They all do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, I…” Jaskier blushes, flustered by the passion in his White Wolf’s words. “I feel the same way. For so long.” He lets out a nervous laugh. “I never knew you...you could possibly…” His grin shines brighter than the crown in his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we should take ten.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, clear the room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a gentle toss, Jaskier the Bard, Viscount of Nowhere sets the coronet atop the sword, and a mighty whoosh of power passes over the land. Creatures twisted and deformed by the cruel king fall to the earth, and the poison traps of—yes there were poison traps but you stepped on them Cirilla. The squashed poison traps heal into fresh, clean rivers, and the woes of the earth dissipate like the sun breaking through the clouds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seven mighty adventurers walk back through the forest together, and they all live happily ever after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You owe me fifty bucks.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You play with dolls.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>FUCK OFF</span>
  </em>
</p>
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